


Ten Minutes

by Hookedonapirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captain Swan - Freeform, Conveniently trapped in an elevator, F/M, Light Bondage, Neighbirs AU, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-28 21:32:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hookedonapirate/pseuds/Hookedonapirate
Summary: “The game's simple, really. In fact you, my love, don’t have to do a thing,” he ends with a click of his tongue, his silky accent sending shivers down her spine.“Don’t call me that,” Emma warns him, but honestly her heart is thumping and her interest is highly piqued, “but please do go on.”“It’s called Ten Minutes. You give me ten minutes to do anything I want to you—touching, teasing, kissing, biting, whatever I want. You so much as moan or make any sound of pleasure, you lose.”Emma bites her lip at the idea of him doing all those things to her and feels heat creeping into her cheeks. “And if I win? What do I get out of this?”“If you win, I will never bother you again.”A grin spreads across her lips. “Okay, you totally made this game up, but sure, I’ll play along,” she decides confidently. She has no doubt she’ll win, so why not? Emma sits up and places the bottle on the floor, glancing over at him again. “You’re on, Jones.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came from a prompt I received on Tumblr after I finished writing A Birthday Surprise: 
> 
> "I was the one who asked for more smut along the lines of Emma telling Killian off during sex. I figured I'd also make a suggestion for you. Maybe a one shot where Killian and Emma are neighbors who hate each other, but have plenty of sexual tension between them?"
> 
> Okay, this isn't exactly what they asked for because Killian doesn't hate Emma, and whether she actually hates him or not is for you to decide. Also, this turned into a two shot instead of one.

Emma _hates_ her neighbor. No, _hate_ is really not the correct term. To say she detests him would be more accurate. He's a walking innuendo full of cheesy lines and flirty quips, which gives her goosebumps. Not to mention the thing he does with his brow—the thing that makes her heart skip a beat and makes her skin hot, her breathing transitioning from smooth and rhythmic to sharp and ragged, but she really and truly hates it.

 

The first time she’d met him, she knew he was trouble.

 

_Emma was carrying a box in her arms, a gym bag slung over one shoulder and a tote strapped to the other as she walked from the elevator to her apartment, panting and out of breath. The box was rather heavy and she feared her arms would give out on her at any second. She couldn't wait to get into her apartment and allow her arms some utter relief from the torture she was putting them through. When she approached the door she knew the only thing left to do was unlock the door._

 

_“Shit!” she grumbled in frustration, realizing the key to her apartment was in her jean pocket because that was where she’d it slid into when the landlord had handed it over._

 

_Emma was trying to figure how the hell she was going to retrieve it without throwing everything on the floor when she heard a voice, that voice, which to this day, is her undoing._

 

_“Need a hand, love?”_

 

_Emma almost dropped everything, startled by the smooth British accent that made her blood sizzle, goosebumps crawling over her skin, and she decided to get a peek the man speaking, but that turned out to be a reckless mistake. Just when she thought he sounded genuinely sincere, she saw the smoldering blue eyes, dark unruly hair and dirty smirk adding to the smug expression on his devastatingly gorgeous face. Yeah, he had the kind of face that stopped a person dead in their tracks, the face that made one rethink every other person in the world they thought was attractive and made a heart skip a beat, because this man was the epitome of handsome in every single way._

 

_And then there was his clothes, which accented the body he was hiding underneath in a sinfully delicious manner, making her blood scream—he was wearing a black v-neck that clung to a rock hard stomach and snug blue, stone washed jeans._

 

_For one second Emma forgot how heavy the box was, too busy gaping at him with her mouth hung open. She tried to compensate the pause in her stonewalled expression by nonchalantly looking away, but she knew the blush flooding her cheeks was a dead giveaway._

 

_Oh, and if his looks weren't enough to kill a woman in his path, there was the goddamn wag of his eyebrows as he added, “All the female neighbors say I'm very talented with my hands,” eliciting her automatic response to men who were overly cocky and screamed “douchebag” because she’d really had her fill of that type._

 

_Emma rolled her eyes and clutched her things closer to her chest. “No thanks.” She'd rather just stand there holding everything all day than accept his offer._

 

_He chuckled and approached her anyways, extending his stupid hand. “I only meant I always help my new neighbors move in. What can I carry?”_

 

_Emma huffed in frustration and tried to shift the box into one arm so she could free one of her hands, but the box was far too leaden for that. It would end up slipping and collapsing onto the floor. “I don't need your help.”_

 

 _He didn't believe her. “You sure  love, because_ _—”_

 

_“Yes, I'm sure. I don't need anyone's help,” Emma cut him off sharply. She tried to bend down to set the box on the floor, but her bags started sliding and she knew if she bent any further down they would fall from her shoulders. Which would not be good because there were some valuable items in them._

 

_Luckily the guy put his hands up in surrender and offered a small smirk, unoffended. “I've done wonders with these hands and never disappoint, so it's really your loss, not mine.” He finally walked away, but Emma was immediately regretting her decision because just as she tried shifting things around in her arms again, she knew everything was just going to come crashing down and would be broken and damaged like her own heart. She cringed at the thought, and maybe it was because she wanted to forget, or maybe it was the reminder of moving to Boston to start over which was what made her rethink her position on accepting his help. Emma closed her eyes briefly, sighing in defeat. “Wait.”_

 

_Killian turned around, lifting his brow again, and her stomach was doing somersaults as he threw her a questioning smirk. “Yes, love?”_

 

_Dammit._

 

_She really hated the way her heart jumped when he used that word. “Not your love... but I could use your help,” Emma admitted, which in response, Killian lifted a hand to his ear as though he didn't hear her._

 

_“What was that?”_

 

_“I could use your help. Could you please unlock my door?” Emma asked resentfully. The box was getting extremely heavy, but she wasn't going to hand him all of her things and let him inside her apartment. No, instead she was going to give him the key to it._

 

_Real smart, Swan, she chided herself._

 

_“Well you could have asked a little nicer, but I am a man of my word. I would love to help. Why don't I just take the box? It looks rather heavy.”_

 

_“No, it's fine. I'll set it down as soon as I get into my apartment. Just unlock the door please,” Emma asked impatiently. “The key’s in my left back pocket. Could you grab it?”_

 

_Killian’s grin grew lopsided, making her heart stutter as he stepped closer, his brow still raised like it was permanently stuck that way. “I would love nothing more than to grab it, but you might want to be more specific, because I might grab the wrong thing and you're not really in a position to stop me or slap me in the face.”_

 

_“The key, moron,” she spat harshly. She was not in the mood for this. Not after days of packing, five hours of driving and now moving and unpacking. “Grab the key from my pocket. Do I have to spell it out for you?”_

 

_“No that's alright, love.” Killian quickly came around her, slipping his hand into her pocket, but of course it was the wrong one, and Emma's breath hitched, feeling his warm hand through her jeans as his fingers searched around the pocket._

 

_She expelled an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “The left, not the right.”_

 

_“Oops, my bad,” he chuckled, but his voice didn't sound apologetic whatsoever as he removed his hand and switched to the other pocket. Emma's breath caught in her throat yet again as his fingers curled against her butt when he grabbed the key. “I can think of much more enjoyable reasons I could be reaching into a woman's pocket for a key… or something else…”_

 

_“Could you just shut up and unlock the damn door?” she barked impatiently._

 

_“I could if you asked more nicely.”_

 

_Emma took a breath and spoke more softly this time, trying to calm herself. This man was really getting on her nerves. “Please unlock the door.”_

 

_“That's better.” Killian finally slid his hand from her pocket, slipped the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door._

 

_Emma hurried into the apartment and set the box on the coffee table with a relieved groan before setting her bags on the floor. She turned around, seeing Killian standing in the doorway holding up the key, so she stepped up to him and reached for it, but he pulled his hand away. “Ah, ah, perhaps gratitude is in order before I give it to you,” he said, pressing a finger to his lips in suggestion._

 

_“Thank you,” she mumbled, ignoring his choice of words and the way his lips pouted when the pad of his finger made contact with it. “Can I have my key back now?”_

 

_“That's all your key is worth to you?” he asked cockily, stepping closer and licking his lips._

 

_Emma blushed and shook her head, thinking of other things he could be doing with those lips and tongue of his. “I don't kiss strangers.” She held out her hand. “The key, please.”_

 

_Killian grinned and extended his free hand, taking hers to shake it. “Of course, the name’s Killian Jones.”_

 

_Emma scoffed, but didn't pull away. She really had to give this guy kudos for his persistence. So, with hesitance, Emma gripped his hand firmer, hoping it hurt. “Emma Swan.”_

 

_“Well now that we’re not strangers anymore… how about that kiss?”_

 

_Emma blushed and opened her mouth, flicking her tongue around the inside and scanning his features. This guy was really asking for a good beatdown, but she couldn't give him that kind of satisfaction, and she knew he wasn't going to back down easily. She’d have to call the cops on his cocky ass first._

 

_So, instead, she fisted her hands around his shirt, and in one swift motion, launched towards him, smashing her lips into his. Their mouths collided in a searing kiss, and the surprised groan that tore from his throat surged through her body, making her shiver all the way down to her toes as their mouths opened for one another in cadence._

 

_Their tongues swiped fiercely at one another and connected, liquid heat rushing through her veins as he cupped the back of her head in his hands, eager fingers weaving through her golden locks. Emma felt like she was suffocating in his hold, but she didn't want it to stop. His scruff was scraping against her skin, she craved it every time they parted against one another, and his lips were soft, but firmly pressed to hers and so delicious, she hated him for it._

 

_Slanting their heads and drawing in the other’s breath until there was no air left in her lungs, she pressed him closer, her breasts hard against his chest. He responded with a growl, the deep rumble rising from his throat and tugging her belly. As sexy as it was—the kiss, the man on the other side of it, the gentle way he sucked her tongue and bit her bottom lip, the noises he made as she swallowed them all down—the sound made her stumble back to reality and literally, yanking her from the lust currently muddling her brain, and she ripped her mouth from his, gasping onto him for dear life._

 

_He chased her lips, but she pulled away, taking in the way he looked—completely destroyed, his eyes hooded and dark as he blinked several times, his lips swollen as he tried to catch his breath._

 

_“That was...”_

 

_“A one time thing.” Emma took advantage of his vulnerable state and grabbed her key from his grasp, pushing him backwards until he was in the hallway. He was completely devastated and bewildered when she grabbed the knob and slammed the door in his face._

 

After that, she had done everything she could to avoid him because every time she saw him, the memory of that day came flooding back, and all she wanted was to forget.

 

So when Emma had hurried into the elevator in her tight, low-cut red dress after chasing and catching a mark, looking forward to taking off her heels, slipping into a hot bath and reading a good book, she hadn't expected her stupid neighbor to jump in before the doors slid shut. She also hadn't expected him to be carrying a bottle of rum he bought from the liquor store and she hadn't expected him to be even more handsome than she’d remembered. She also hadn't expected the elevator to stop working and their phones to be out of service.

 

_Fucking hell._

 

And now they're sitting on the floor sharing the bottle of rum as she tries to convince Killian she hates him. Which she does.

 

“Then why did you kiss me if you hate me so much?”

 

“To get you off my back.”

 

Killian raises an eyebrow, a wicked smirk tainting his lips. God, he really needs to stop doing that. It makes her heart flutter too fucking much. “Love, if anything, kissing me would put you _on_ your back.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes, mumbling under her breath,  “You wish.”

 

They haven’t had much to drink, but Emma’s feeling a buzz as she hands over the bottle of rum and glances at her annoying neighbor who takes another swig from it. At least the tiny bit of alcohol in her system makes him more tolerable, and if she’s being honest, his eyes seem to be even more blue, his smile much more attractive and the thing he does with his eyebrow is way more sultry than she’d prefer to admit.  

  
  
Killian gulps down the amber liquid and lowers the bottle, wetting those pretty pink lips of his.

  
  
Emma wishes she were the one awarded with that task, of feeling his lips and scruff against her skin (but it’s only the alcohol speaking) as she leans back against the wall, averting her gaze away from him.

  
  
“I’ve an idea.”

  
  
Lifting a brow, she turns her head to face him again. “Uh oh, this can’t be good… unless your idea is getting the elevator to work so we can part ways of course.”

  
  
Killian emits a suppressed laugh as he cranes his neck, languidly rolling the back of his head against the wall to look her in the eye. “And give you what we both know you don’t really want? I think not. I had quite a different plan, actually.”

  
  
“And what’s that?” Emma’s definitely not interested in anything he has brewing in that dirty mind of his. Not. at. all.

  
  
Killian’s lips widen into a dark smirk, his eyes glittering with a combination of mirth and devilry, and her breath does not catch in her throat, nor does her heart stutter. Okay, maybe a little. “I want to play a game. You claim I have no effect on you, you claim you hate me with every breath you take, so I say, you prove it.”

  
  
Okay, Emma kind of said that, and she kind of likes where this is going. “No problem, Jones. Tell me what I have to do,” she murmurs before grabbing the bottle of rum from his hand, their fingers making contact, and she takes a quick drink, the liquid burning as it slides down her throat.

  
  
Killian leans in, his lips way too close to her ear, and his hot breath hovering over her skin, making her shudder. “The game’s simple, really. In fact you, my love, don’t have to do a thing,” he ends with a click of his tongue, his silky accent sending shivers down her spine.

  
  
“Don’t call me that,” Emma warns him, but honestly her heart is thumping and her interest is highly piqued, “but please do go on.”

  
  
“It’s called Ten Minutes. You give me ten minutes to do anything I want to you—touching, teasing, kissing, biting, _whatever_ I want. You so much as moan or make any sound of pleasure, you lose.”

  
  
Emma bites her lip at the idea of him doing all those things to her and feels heat creeping into her cheeks. “And if I win? What do I get out of this?”

 

“If you win, I will never bother you again.”

  
  
A grin spreads across her lips. “Okay, you totally made this game up, but sure, I’ll play along,” she decides confidently. She has no doubt she’ll win, so why not? Emma sits up and places the bottle on the floor, glancing over at him again. “You’re on, Jones.” She stands from the floor, ready to get this over with as she looks down at him, waiting for him.

 

For a second, Killian seems surprised, his pupils dilating with disbelief, and his cocky bravado suddenly vanquished. “Really? You'll play along?”

 

Emma shrugs. “Sure, why not? I will definitely win this, so I'm not worried.”

 

Killian’s eyes light up in excitement, a mischief-laced smirk gracing his sinful-looking mouth as he stands up pulling out his phone to bring up the timer. “Before I start, shall we establish some rules?”

 

“Well, you said whatever you want. So rules kind of defeat the purpose, don't you think?”

 

He grins and sets the timer. “I do love the way you think, Swan. Although, if it were up to me, we'd be in your room instead of this elevator and you'd be completely naked.”

 

Emma's cheeks flush with pink and she bites her lips to suppress the imagery his words have formed. “Yeah, too bad we don't have that option at the moment. Let’s just get this over with.”

 

“As you wish.” Killian presses start and sets the phone down before coming up behind her.

 

Emma loses a breath, her heart pounding when she feels Killian’s touch as he slides his hands down her arms. The path of his fingertips ignite her skin, she trembles and closes her eyes, preparing herself for anything. Why didn't she accept his offer for setting rules again?

 

Killian swipes her hair over one shoulder, and his hands move to her shoulders, gently rubbing and kneading soothing circles into her skin.

 

“Really? You can do anything you want, and you go with a back massage?” she asks with a snort, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

 

She can feel his breath on her skin when he leans in, whispering into her ear. “I'm just warming you up. You're too tense, just relax.” His voice is soothing and sinful all at once and his hands actually feel amazing as he works on her shoulders and upper back,  but she doesn't make a sound.

 

Emma draws in a shaky breath, letting it out very slowly as he gently works on the knots in her muscles.

 

“That's a good lass,” he purrs, and this time his lips are on the shell of her ear, making her quiver underneath his touch.

 

Killian moves down her back, kneading and smoothing the tightened muscles, but he doesn't stay there very long, because it's probably been two minutes already. It's only been two minutes and he's barely touched her, but Emma's already completely sober and she can feel her body crumbling to pieces underneath him, a tingling sensation all over, the blood rushing to her head, making her dizzy. She tries to think about other things, but as soon as Killian grabs her hips and presses her flush against his body, Emma gasps. She bites back a moan when his lips descend to her neck, exposed and flushed, as she attempts to steady her breathing. His mouth is warm and heavenly, and his breath is blazing hot, massaging her pulse point, his stubble scratching her skin, tongue darting out to lick her tender flesh.

 

 _You can do this,_ she tries to coax herself, but let's face it, she's a fragmented mess, her core is aching and her nipples are hard as a rock. She still remains confident… until he takes the bottom of her dress in his hands, scrunching up the fabric and pulling it to her hips, exposing her panty-covered nub. His hands find the apex of her thighs, palming her flesh and she has to bite her bottom lip wishing he were closer to her center, which at this point is dripping wet. At the same time, she hopes he doesn't because then he would know the effect he has on her, if her trembling body, shallow breaths and the way she molds into him doesn't already. Killian begins kissing the shell of her ear, his lips engaging her lobe with open-mouthed kisses. He pulls the tip of her ear with his teeth, and she can hear little groans under his breath as he massages her thighs and hips without touching the place she wants him the most.

 

“Fuck.” Emma’s breathing becomes ragged and loud, almost turning into a moan, and she knows she's not going to last much longer. Killian smirks against her ear and she realizes what she's just done. “That doesn't count,” she attests. “It was a sound of disapproval.”  

 

“Whatever you say, love.” He doesn’t sound too concerned, and suddenly he's spinning her around until her back is being pressed into the wall, Killian’s body on hers in an instant, the air escaping her lungs. He hoists her up and she squeals at the satisfying feeling of being trapped between him and the wall as she wraps her legs around his hips. His teeth are nibbling on the bare part of her shoulder, gently pulling the skin into his mouth and sucking hard, and her panties are completely drenched. Emma can no longer hold back when his erection is embedded into her center; an audible moan finally escaping her mouth. “Killian,” she breathes heavily. “Don't stop.”

 

Killian lifts his head, looking into her eyes, and to her surprise, he's not giving her a smug smirk or quirky brow; he appears to be utterly wrecked, his eyes clouded with lust. “I wasn't planning on it.” He captures her lips and thrusts his hips into hers, their clothed centers rubbing together so deliciously, Emma thinks she might come right there.

 

Killian can sense she's close and kisses her breathlessly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and finding hers. She swallows the groan he offers when their tongues collide in a fiery, rapid duo and she grinds her hips against his, seeking more friction.

 

Without breaking the kiss, his hand moves from her waist and slides between her thighs, pushing her panties aside, his fingers slipping into her wet, aching heat. Emma’s cries are muffled by his mouth, but not restrained as she moves her hips, chasing more of his fingers. Killian releases her lips, smirking against her mouth, panting fiercely.

 

“You like when I touch you, don't you, love?”

 

Emma whimpers when his movements stop.

 

“Tell me, Emma.”

 

“Fuck you,” she mutters, her breathing shaky as she bucks her hips, begging for him.

 

Killian growls, plunging his fingers into her heat, and she's really starting to love that sound. “Tell me you love when I touch you.”

 

“Yes! I love when you touch me! I love the effect you have on me!” she screams, hoping he’ll relieve her of this blissful torture.

 

Thankfully, he gives her what she craves, and so much more, as he pumps three digits into her, his thumb flicking her clit. “That's a good girl.”

 

She whimpers, her nectar erupting over his hand, fingers tightening around his shoulders. She’s never been a fan of foreplay; whenever she's bedded a man, he's never been talented enough to pleasure her with his hand alone. In fact, she's never really been that satisfied in bed, but _God_ , she loves being fucked by Killian's fingers. And she hates that she loves it.

 

“You stupid asshole!”

 

“That's it. Let this asshole make you come.”

 

Letting her head fall back, hitting the wall, she screams unabashedly when she jolts and explodes with ripples of pleasure because _Jeezus. Fucking. Christ._ That’s incredible.

 

Killian’s movements slow, letting her ride his fingers through the aftershocks as she slumps against the wall, fighting for air.

 

Somewhere during that time, when her mind is floating on a blissful cloud, the elevator comes to life and Killian hurries to right her clothing, letting her feet fall to the ground before he smooths out her dress, pressing it into place. They look at the timer and there's still thirty seconds left. Killian grins, his eyebrow curving, and now his cockiness is shining through again, but she doesn't care. Emma takes his hand and pulls him out of the elevator.

 

His face contorts in confusion. “Where are we going?”

 

“We’re raising the stakes,” she replies, a bit of devilry in her smile.

 

Killian arches a brow in curiosity as they reach her door. “Please do tell, love.”

 

Emma retrieves her keys from her purse, unlocking the door as she looks over at him. “You've won, obviously, so let's see how many times you can make me come.” Emma’s smirk reeks of mischief as she leans in, whispering in his ear. “But instead of ten minutes... you get an hour.” She can hear him gasp as she slightly pulls away. “Unless you're not up to the challenge of course.”

 

Killian stands there practically drooling as his tongue traces his bottom lip, excitement buzzing in those goddamn blue eyes. “Oh I'm up. I'm very up.”

 

Emma giggles and takes his hand, pulling him inside the apartment, never breaking their gaze. “Good.”


	2. Chapter 2

Emma is nervous as they enter her apartment, and she leads him to the room with knots in her stomach, the anticipation building. She can't believe she's doing this, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to, because _God,_ she does.

 

When they reach her bedroom, Killian spins her around, pressing her to the door and trapping her wrists above her head, his voice sinful and low as he speaks. “You want me to make you come?”

 

“Yes.” Emma's voice is wrecked, but she doesn't care at this point. She wants him inside her, expanding her walls and filling her up.

 

Killian leans in, his lips a hair's breadth away, so she tries to kiss him, but he pulls his mouth away. “Then you will do what I say, got it?” His voice is husky, eyes painted with lust, and Emma's entire body shivers with arousal as she squirms against his hold. She can sense the restraint he's willing himself to use on her, knowing it's driving Emma absolutely mad, and it makes her want him even more.

 

She gives a nod, and he grins broadly, his lips tainted with mischief as he kisses her _hard,_ his body pressed to hers, suffocating her. He's barely touched her after they’d left the elevator, but she's already aroused beyond belief and ready for him again, her skin burning with excitement.

 

Breaking the kiss, this time it's Emma chasing his lips, but it's Killian pulling away, releasing her wrists before backing away.

 

“Take of your clothes and climb onto the bed, love. And lay on your back.”

 

Her heart is slamming inside her throat, stomach clenching and core throbbing with need. If she were smarter she would've never opened herself up to this, she should’ve parted ways with him as soon as she literally got off, and she could’ve been on her merry way, continuing to hate his guts. But instead she's doing what he's asked because, well, she wants him, no _needs_ him, and his commanding voice has aroused her even more, she can feel the coolness of her juices dripping down her thighs.

 

Killian’s gaze is burning into her skin as she pulls down the straps of her dress and reaches behind her, unzipping it. Their eyes are locked on each other, both full of heat and want, but as soon as the fabric falls from her body landing on the floor and pooling around her feet, his eyes make a hungry trail down her body.

 

She tries to ignore him and peels her eyes from his, but her breath is quivering as she releases the clasp of her red laced bra, and when it hits the floor, she swears she can hear a low growl from where he stands.

 

Keeping herself steady, she makes sure to add a little sway to her hips as she pulls down her matching thong, kicking it aside, but her heart is pounding and his piercing stare as he licks his lips isn't helping her nerves in the least.

 

Entirely naked, Emma climbs on the bed like she was told and lays on her back, waiting for him to make a move as she looks at the ceiling, breathing slowly.

 

Apparently he’s already had some plans brewing in that gorgeous head of his because a few moments later, a few moments of letting him do as he wishes and make the necessary preparations, she finds herself tied to her own bed with her waist belts, made of soft fabric, wrapped around her wrists.

 

“Killian…” she pleads, her body aching for him, skin burning with need. He flashes a devilish smirk and grabs a red, silk scarf that was hanging on her closet door, holding it up for her to see. Emma raises a brow, questioning him with her eyes.

 

“I want you to get the full experience, love. I want you to be able to feel everything and focus on my touch without being able to touch me back or see what I'm doing.”

 

Emma whines in protest because she prefers to touch him and see him and just be with him, but she relents, offering a nod. She did tell him he can do _whatever_ he wants with her.

 

Killian grins in success. “This is going to be fun, love. I promise.”

 

Emma doesn't doubt it will be.

 

He steps up to the bed, brushing back her blonde hair and wrapping the scarf over her eyes, tying it behind her head.

 

With the scarf knotted and everything dark, Emma lays her head down and feels warm lips on hers and his fingers running up her arms, and it's very gentle and soothing. “That’s not too tight, is it, love?”

 

“No. Not at all.” Emma replies in a raspy voice as she waits in torturous anticipation. Her breath is shaky and she has no idea what he's about to do, but she can't wait any longer, and she lets out a small whine, pulling on the belts, the fabric digging into her wrists. Emma could probably escape them if she tried, but she's too excited to see what he has planned. As the cool air flows over her wet folds, a little thrill rushes through her blood, and she arches her back and thrust her hips in the air, wanting him, offering herself.

 

“Do you want me to touch you?”

 

“Yes.” The speed of her choked out response even surprises the hell out of her.

 

“Where, love?”

 

 _Are you kidding me?_ “Everywhere! Please.”

 

“Are you begging now, Emma?”

 

“Yes. I need… I need you to touch me.”

 

“And you still hate me?”

 

“I hate you so much,” she breathes, her voice wrecked and tainted with lust.

 

Finally, she feels the bed dip and hears him breathing over her. And she's pretty sure he's grinning from ear to ear although she can’t see him. “Good.”

 

Emma moans, hearing and feeling the deep rumble in his voice as his breath rushes over her nipples. She trembles at first touch, his hands and lips gliding over her stomach and making his way down her body, but there are detours—many detours. His fingers don't go directly to their destination—they instead drift off in different directions, caressing across her skin. Before his palm reaches her breast, it slides up over her ribs, before his hands tangle in her hair, they stroke up her jawline, before he descends all the way to her nub, he caresses her thighs. She's never wanted anything more in her entire life than she does in that moment, so when he cups her breasts in his hands, which are incredibly strong and firm, Emma melts in his palms and groans in relief.

 

His lips and tongue take their time at the sensitive spot behind her ear, down the column of her throat and the soft curves of her breasts, but he doesn't touch her center just yet, even when he follows his touches with wet, open mouthed kisses, and Emma's whimpers sound in her ear. She can feel his touch everywhere, kneading, stroking and caressing—everywhere except her most intimate place.

 

She squirms when his tongue lightly circles a hardened peak, pressing herself up into his touch. He groans against her skin, drawing the stiff nipple into his warm mouth, teasing and nipping with his teeth and tongue, and a sharp intake of breath escapes her lungs.

 

“So bloody beautiful.” His shattered words are accompanied by a low growl, and her entire skin shivers with goosebumps.

 

“Killian…” His name on her lips turns into a gasp, her back arching, curled toes digging into the rumpled blanket as he sucks her nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the hard bud, his hands slipping down the length of her body, the calluses on his palms catching on her skin, making her whimper. One hand stops at her hip, curling over the soft curve, the other tracing down her thigh, fingers gliding in between her legs, and she hears his breath shudder; she can feel it against her skin.

 

"God, so wet for me.”

 

Emma smirks because his words are broken, full of want, and she knows he's just as tortured as she is.

 

His thumb rubs over her clit with barely any pressure, and her hips are already lifting, anxiously rocking up into his touch, and he lays a firm hand on her, pinning her down gently. “Be still, love,” he demands, softly nipping at her stomach. The brush of his hot breath makes her squirm, needing more, but he doesn't relent, only hellbent on teasing her. “Such a greedy lass,” he taunts, his fingers finally slipping into the slick, aching softness between her thighs, drawing lazy circles over the bundle of nerves. Light puffs of air fan her skin and tender kisses cover the inside of her thighs, eliciting soft moans as he strokes her folds.

 

His breath is hovering over her flesh, and when she feels his warm tongue on her clit, circling her entrance, she moans and her thighs tremble as she spreads her legs wide for him. He laps at her folds and his tongue feels flipping amazing and so soft, she can't get enough when he starts flicking her clit wildly.

 

“Oh fuck,” she whispers, but before she gets a chance to thoroughly enjoy herself, he pulls away and she feels the mattress move as he gets up.

 

“God dammit,” she whimpers in frustration, because if he doesn't get her off soon she will die of sexual frustration.

 

Emma listens to his footsteps, panting heavily because that's all she can do go maintain some sanity.

 

After a couple of moments of him shuffling around as she lays there, both enjoying and despising the unresolved sensations running through her, she can hear him moving around the room, buttons and a zipper being undone, and clothes being dropped to the floor. She can also hear the the drawer of her nightstand open and close and the room filling with the sound of her vibrator.

 

Emma’s being torn with a mixture of emotions because on one hand she is angry with him for going through her things, but on the other hand she is so fucking horny and excited to see what he has planned for her, she might explode.

 

“I hope you don't mind that I looked through your drawer, love.”

 

“Actually I do mind, Jones… but you got two seconds to make me forget.”

 

“And what exactly are going to do if I don't?”

 

_Damn bastard._

 

“You fucking asshole.” As soon as the words leave Emma's mouth, she gasps when the vibrator touches her bare nub, making her quiver. He moves the toy over her folds, and she bucks her hips, wanting to feel more of the humming sensation.

 

“You like this, Swan?” he asks, smirking as he kisses her stomach, nuzzling against it, the rough stubble at his jaw dragging against her sensitive skin.

 

“Stop teasing me,” she squeals when he pulls the vibrator away.

 

Emma is still rocking her hips when she feels the vibrations again, feeling the hard plastic being shoved into her core, and she moans softly, her body squirming and hands flexing in the bonds, the material digging into her wrists.

 

She feels the mattress dip again, feels her nipple being tugged and pulled, his teeth sinking into the swell of her breasts and his naked, hard dick throbbing against her hip as he starts shoving the vibrator in and out of her core.

 

“Killian… please let me come,” she cries out, hips rocking upwards, trying to gain even more friction against the vibrator.

 

“Not til I say, love.”

 

Emma hates the fucking bastard, but she can't deny the fact that everything he does to her—every bite, every lick, every thrust—is utter perfection, and she’s near the brink of an orgasm. “Fuck… oh god.” Even if she weren’t close, everything feels so amazing she doesn't want him to stop. But he does. And it's pure madness how much she fucking needs him to make her come, but he continues to engage her body with lustful kisses, playful bites that she's sure is covering her skin with bruises, and hard thrusts of the vibrobor before removing it again. He's pleasuring every fucking inch of her body in just the right way without letting her find utter release, and it's exquisite torture.

 

“Say my name again, Emma,” Killian demands, plunging the vibrator into her depths.

 

Killian...”

 

“Tell me how much you want me to make you come. Tell me you want me,” he asks, his words laced with pure sin and lust, and Emma's sure if his ministrations don't kill her, his voice will.

 

“I want you so much. I want so badly to scream your name as I come all over you!” she whimpers, and is rewarded by several powerful thrusts and also a feral growl that rises from his throat. “Holy fucking shit,” she whimpers, jerking her hips when he increases the speed of the vibrator, working it harder against her folds.

 

“Such a good lass,” he murmurs, brushing her clit with the pad of his thumb. “Come for me, Emma.”

 

Her blood runs hot, body overwhelmed with heat, finally feeling an orgasm rise within her when he hits that spot over and over with the vibrator, white stars popping before her eyes. She whimpers, gasping and arching her back off the bed, her entire body locking up and convulsing like she's experiencing a seizure, and she tumbles over the edge, her juices exploding from her core.

 

“So fucking hot,” he groans, and even through her post orgasm haze, she knows his gaze is burning into her flushed skin, her body writhing as she tries to catch her breath. In fact, she has a feeling the cocky bastard is smirking from his position in the room.

 

Killian doesn't stop, he draws out a few more orgasms, alternating between the vibrator, his fingers, his teeth, his tongue, his mouth, and each climax is better than the prior one. And he never seems to tire of watching her come undone, watching her back arch, her hands twisting against their restraints as she trembles and squirms. He never tires of hearing her cry out, of hearing her saying his name—screaming it, whispering it with shallow breaths—because he lets out little growls or commends her with a “good girl.”

 

Her orgasms start blurring together, and soon she's lost count, caught in the haze of pleasure overload, and she’s a panting, helpless crumbled pile of limbs.

 

But still she wants him inside her, filling her to the brink, and as another mind-blowing orgasm ripples through her body, she screams out his name, and it’s for him to fuck her into the bed, but not wanting this to be over yet.

 

“Fuck me, you stupid bastard,” she blurts out. “I need you.”

 

Killian growls and removes the scarf from her eyes. “God I wanna fuck you too,” he groans softly, and Emma can see how wrecked he is, eyes darkened with lust. “Are you ready for something more filling?”

 

“God yes,” she whimpers and nods, brain fuzzy and clouded.

 

A pleased smirk tilts his lips as he takes in the sight of her body, flushed and pink all the way down to her neck and breasts, her skin sheathed in sweat, breasts trembling with each ragged breath.

 

His hand is still slick from touching her as he curls his fingers around his aching cock, fingers stroking over the thick length. He drags his mouth down her neck, kissing, biting and sucking hard, possessively marking her skin with gentle bruises, and the inside of her stomach bunches up with burning lust. Emma turns her head, moaning into her arm, the sound muffled into her skin, and he takes her jaw in a firm but gentle hand, drawing her head towards him so he can claim her mouth in a hard kiss.  
His belled tip brushes her folds, and Emma thrusts her hips, inviting him to take her as she whines against his lips.

 

Killian pumps himself a few more times and slowly eases his cock into her heat without diving all the way in before pulling back, and she groans and squirms against her bonds, trying to use her legs to bring him closer.

 

"What's wrong, love?” he asks with a taunting grin, but he knows damn well what's wrong.

 

"Fuck me, Killian. Make me yours.”

 

The groan that rumbles in his chest turns into a feral growl and without any sort of warning, he drives into her depths, burying himself deep within her walls. Emma moans in utter relief. He feels so big and filling, all of the teasing and tormenting was definitely worth it. One of his hands pins her hips into the mattress as he slams into her, claims her as his, his mouth leaving graphic marks on the curve of her neck and shoulder. Emma is whimpering as his hands dive into her hair, fingers curling around her disheveled tresses, forcing her to look at him.

 

"Come around my cock, Emma,” he insists in a rough, dark voice that makes her shudder. And tell me how much you despise me as your walls squeeze my dick and your body trembles for the tenth time, begging me to stop.” Well, there's the answer to the burning question. She should've known he was keeping track.

 

“Yes,” she manages in a strangled moan, her breasts bouncing up and down as he pounds into her.

 

“I want you to cry out as I fuck you so hard into oblivion you won't be able to walk for weeks. You got it?”

 

“Yes yes yes!” she screams out.

 

Killian lifts one of her legs over his shoulder, changing his angle as she bites her bottom lip in anticipation. Her hands pull against the scarves as he starts plunging into her as hard as he can.

 

“Oh god,” she moans as he thrusts into her deep, “I hate you,” another thrust, “so much!” Her voice is shaking, her breath ragged and she feels another orgasm taking over her as he fucks her relentlessly into the bed. “Oh God, I can't stand you!”

 

“Such a good lass,” he breathes roughly and his voice is a strong contrast to the brutal way he’s pounding into her, like there's no tomorrow, as he looks down at her with dark, hooded eyes. "Tell me your mine, love.”

 

Emma's walls start fluttering around his cock as he slides in and out of her, showing no mercy, his fingers digging into thighs so roughly it feels incredible.

 

“Tell me, Emma,” he presses again, his hips never faltering.

 

“I'm yours, Killian! I'm all yours!” she cries, her voice cracked as her entire body shakes and trembles, hips rocking erratically and walls fluttering around him, sending him over the edge. His fingers curl, tightening around her shoulder, his muscles clenching helplessly, a guttural groan escaping his lips as her tight quim milks him for every last drop. They clutch onto each other, finding their release simultaneously, both panting fiercely as he slows his hips, his body collapsing into hers so he can catch his breath.

 

Emma’s world is spinning around her, their chests heaving against each other, hearts hammering wildly as they take a few beats to settle down.

 

As sore as she is, her body aching pleasantly, Emma's never felt so completely satisfied, stretched and sated in her entire life.

 

Their bodies are too sapped to move at first, but once Killian’s able to, he lifts his body from hers and lays next to her as he loosens the belts from her wrists. She sighs contentedly, dropping her arms and studying him carefully as he rubs her wrists and brings her hands to his lips, pressing delicate kisses to the reddened, tender skin.

 

“I didn't hurt you, did I love?” he asks and there's genuine concern etched in his words, and he almost looks guilty.

 

“No. Not at all. In fact,” Emma turns on her side, facing him, “I kinda liked it,” she teases with a smirk. “And it turns out I don't hate you after all.”

 

Killian grins triumphantly as he gently strokes her cheek with his thumb. “Is that so?”

 

Emma nods, her heart fluttering as her fingers comb through his wonderful chest hair, so soft and silky under her touch. It's been a long time since she's had sex with a man and not wanted to flee afterwards. Even if they were in Killian's apartment instead of hers and even if she were physically able to, she wouldn't want to. “Mmhmm.” She likes this feeling settled in her bones. She likes it a little too much. 

 

Killian rolls on his back and Emma rests her head on his chest, using him as a soft pillow, her fingers tracing lazy circles around his abs. She splays her leg around his hip, both of their essences dripping from her core as one of his hands latch around her thigh.

 

“But just know one thing.”

 

Killian tilts his head, looking down at her. “What's that, love?”

 

“I’m gonna get you back, Jones,” she purrs softly against his chest, reaching her hand between their bodies to delicately cup his balls in her hand, feeling the silky texture in her fingertips. “You just wait.”

 

Killian’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and he grins against her disheveled hair. “Mmm, is that a promise?”

 

“Oh, it's definitely a promise.”

 

To that, he growls, and Emma giggles softly before pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, releasing him before things get too heated. She's definitely far too spent for another round. But once she has her energy back, she will be more than eager to tease and torture and bring him to the edge over and over again before she lets him come, just as he did to her. “I look forward to it.”

 

He sighs pleasantly against her lips, cradling her gently against him as he drops a kiss to the top of her head. Emma glances at the alarm clock before snuggling closer to Killian, nuzzling her cheek into his chest to indulge in more of his warmth as he tugs the blanket up over them. 

 

 _What a way to spend an hour and ten minutes,_ she thinks before they fall into a blissful slumber wrapped up in each other's arms. 


End file.
